


Next Monday

by Keyossa



Category: Garfield - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:28:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24613783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keyossa/pseuds/Keyossa
Summary: Garfield, after a long time of emotional struggle, has had enough of the annoyances that surround his lethargic life.
Kudos: 1





	Next Monday

"Nermal was always such a pain in the neck,"   
Garfield groaned to his therapist as he paced lethargically around a lounge box. "He never gave me anything but stress and pain. I always attempted to ship my pain away by sending him to Abu Dahbi but then Jon would always scream at me because apparently it's 'wrong' and 'illegal' to package another sentient being and send them to faraway lands."   
"Well, Garfield, sometimes you have to deal with that kind of inconvenience and annoyance. I mean, you can't stop Mondays from happening every week."   
"DON'T FUCKING BRING UP MONDAYS," Garfield roared at Lyman M.D, as his mental claws were extending.   
"Calm down, Garfield, I'm just trying to say that pain will always come if you let it, after all, misery loves company." 

Garfield, in his ragged paw, held a capsule filled to its maximum with Vicodin, Robitussin, and a myriad of other painkillers and depression medication. He stared at the bottle with a blank expression. Jon was out trying to find a lover, but Garfield knew that he would always come back with a suit soaked with wine. Odie was outside, frolicking in the desolate garden Jon tried to grow an episode or two earlier. There was lasagna in the fridge, but for how long it had been there, it was self-evident that there was some kind of mold or other substance coating the cheese casing of the pasta. All Garfield had was the recesses of a warped mind; a gruesome scene where Nermal was brutally stabbed until her eyes hung from their sockets like loose shoelaces. The morbidity of these thoughts didn't change his vacant expression, or the sunken nature of his own pupils. Swiping a handful of pills from the capsule, he gulped them all down like he had done with many plates of cakes and steak in his halcyon days. The picture of the muted television warped and shifting like it dwelled in an hourglass. The faint image of Odie roaming the yard duplicated and grew, but then shrunk back to its normal size. Garfield, in an exhaustion all too familiar, wrapped his small, blue blanket around him and never woke up to see next Monday.


End file.
